Dialogues of the Dead

Who was now free of traffic on the quiet country roads and' moving so fast that his passage hardly allowed time for the sheep grazing in the fields to raise their heads before he was out of sight, leaving only a wisp of exhaust smoke as evidence they hadn't been dreaming. Still some way behind him but, now that he was out of the city, keeping pace, came Pascoe with, a little way further back, the siren and lights of the patrol car which had picked up Andy Dalziel from the Black Bull. The Fat Man came on his mobile now. 'Where are you at, Pete?' Pascoe told him. 'And Bowler?' 'Not in sight yet.' 'Well, stop driving along like an old woman! Get up there with , him. Owt happens to the lad, I'll hod thee responsible.' : 'It's more what's likely to happen to Dee when Hat catches up ( with him that I'm worried about.' < 'Him? Turns out he's the Wordman, who's going to care?' said : Dalziel dismissively. 'No, it's young Bowler we've got to look out for. Another couple of years shaking that college education out of him, he could make a good cop. What the fuck are you doing ; with this thing? Pedalling it?' The last two sentences, Pascoe assumed, were addressed to the driver of the patrol car, but he felt their power too and pushed his foot even harder on to the accelerator so that the same sheep ; which a little earlier had been disturbed by the passage of the MG twitched their ears again, but, being, contrary to their image, quick learners, this time did not bother to raise their heads.

So, thought Rye, will I, won't I? She was aware that while her mind vacillated, her body was independently sending out much more positive signals. She had stretched herself out in the chair, waiting for Dee, in every sense, to make his move. Her left bra-strap had slipped down over her shoulder and her breast had almost escaped from its silken cup, but she made no effort to recapture it. Indeed sensing, and perhaps slightly piqued by, a degree of hesitation in Dee himself, she relaxed her shoulders so that the nipple of the errant orb came fully into view. Now she had his attention. But it wasn't on her swelling nipple that his eyes were fixed. He was looking at her head. She said, 'What?' He reached across the board and touched the silver blaze in her hair. 'I've always wanted to do that,' he said. 'To check it doesn't come off on your fingers?' she mocked. ' 'Tis in grain, sir. 'Twill endure wind and weather.' 'I never doubted it,' he said. And now he let his gaze slip down to her bosom. He said, 'Rye .. .' She said, 'Yes?' He said, 'Rye?' She said, 'Yes.' It was that easy. He stood up so suddenly, one of his feet jolted the Paronomania board, shuffling the letters from the places so that now they made no sense. He said, 'I'll just get ... I've got .. . excuse me .. .' He turned and went out of the room. Smiling, she now rose and undid her bra, letting it fall to the floor as she slipped out of her jeans and pants. She went to the window. It took an effort of focus to get her gaze beyond the patina of rain stains and lichen which darkened

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